


Waiting for the End of the World

by fictionalaspect



Series: Waiting for the End of the World [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Desperation Play, First Time, High School, Kink, M/M, Sensation Play, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't know," Spencer says. "Fuck, Brendon. I don't know. Everything is weird. This is weird. Can you stay still for me while I jerk you off?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> All of the titles in this series have been shamelessly stolen from Elvis Costello's first album, including this one. Thank you to [hermette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hermette) for the beta! <3

“Are you staying here again tonight?” Brendon says, tapping his fingers on the door-frame that separates his tiny, closet-sized living room from his even tinier, even more closet-sized bedroom.

"Am I...what?” Spencer says, blinking down at his math homework and then looking up at Brendon from where he's sprawled out on the futon. He squints, like he’s not sure how Brendon got there in the first place. Brendon feels like there’s a pretty obvious reason for him being here, seeing as how it’s his apartment and all.

“It’s almost 1am,” Brendon says. He pulls his fingers away from the door-frame, shoving his fingers into his pocket so he can tug his cell phone out and check the time. “Yeah,” Brendon says, flipping it open. “12:54. You want to stay?”

“Uh,” Spencer says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. In the harsh, uneven light of Brendon’s two bare bulbs, he looks very young, and very tired. “Yeah. Sure. You don’t mind?”

“Couch,” Brendon says, shrugging and waving his hand at the ratty old futon that’s less of a futon and more of a second home for all of his band mates. “Or bed. Whatever. I don’t care. I was just asking because I’m going to sleep now. I’m fucking exhausted.” Brendon doesn’t share the fact that he’s actually apparently already gone to sleep, if the way he’d woken up face-down on his history textbook is any indication. Now he’s just making it official, that's all.

“But _you’re_ sleeping in your bed,” Spencer says, after a long pause. "Aren't you?"

“Yeah?” Brendon says, raising an eyebrow at Spencer. "And?"

“Oh,” Spencer says.

Brendon looks away, shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wants to explain that he actually didn’t mean it like that, that mostly he’s just tired and he doesn’t care where Spencer sleeps, but that seems counter-productive to their new habit of being super awkward around each other. Sometimes Brendon almost wishes Spencer never came out; it's changed things between all of them, subtle things that aren't even worth mentioning. Sometimes he worries about it, worries about Spencer and if he notices--if he cares--but deep down inside Brendon knows his reasons for wanting to go back in time are entirely selfish. If Spencer hadn’t come out then Brendon wouldn’t be stuck with this fluttering, sad little hope in his chest every time Spencer so much as looks in his direction.

“Whatever,” Brendon says finally, shrugging his shoulders and looking helplessly at Spencer. He tries to beam _are we finally going to talk about this?_ in Spencer’s general direction, but Spencer just looks away and fidgets with his pencil.

“Look, I’m going to bed,” Brendon says, after a few moments of silence. “I just. Sleep wherever you want, Spencer. It doesn’t have to mean—whatever. Whatever you think it means. If that's what you're saying. Because it doesn't.” Brendon is too tired for this.

“Sure,” Spencer says. He’s still not quite making eye contact, and Brendon gives up, shrugging again and flopping down onto his mattress with a sigh. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about how he kind of has to piss. He’s had like four Red Bulls today to stay awake. He should really go to the bathroom.

He’s asleep again within five minutes.

\--

Brendon wakes up with his entire body pressed head to toe against Spencer’s, warm skin against warm skin. It's nice. It’s probably the only nice part of the equation, considering that the next thing Brendon’s aware of is the way he’s been sleepily rubbing his dick up on Spencer’s thigh.

Brendon bites his lip, trying to stay absolutely still.

He can feel a thick blush rising on his cheeks, and he can’t quite get up the courage to look up and see if Spencer is awake. And fuck, he has to piss. He really, really, really has to piss, and he tries not to think too closely about how he knows he should have gone earlier and he just…didn’t, which is sort of like all the other times that Brendon just…hasn’t. He doesn’t know why. It’s a weird game he plays with himself sometimes, seeing how long he can hold out. He tends to push himself until he’s where he is right now, hard and breathless and aching. He doesn't know why. It's just something that happens.

Spencer makes a sleepy, muffled noise.

Brendon tries to stay even more still, tries to hold his breath, as though that will help him escape. His dick is aching and he thinks the wet tip might be poking out of his boxers and sliding up against Spencer’s skin, because when he carefully draws in a deep, slow breath there’s a frisson of pleasure that rolls up his spine.

He shivers.

Brendon wants to whine at the sensation, wants to roll his hips down and slide his dick along the soft skin on Spencer’s thigh, wants to move and rut and kiss Spencer. He can’t. He’s frozen in place, too scared to look up and see if Spencer’s watching him.

Oh god, seriously. He has to pee _so badly._

“Okay,” Brendon whispers, trying to psyche himself up. He’s just going to roll away, one quick movement, and then he’ll be up and out of the bed and in the bathroom where he can pee all he wants and jerk off all he wants. Spencer will never have to know what just happened. He risks a glance, heart pounding, but Spencer’s eyes are still closed. “One-two—“

“Mmm?” Spencer mumbles sleepily, opening his eyes at the sound of Brendon’s barely-voiced whisper.

“Oh fuck,” Brendon says weakly. He needs to roll away. His brain is screaming at him to move but every muscle in his body is suddenly frozen in place as he watches Spencer wake up, blinking hazily at Brendon from barely an inch away.

Spencer bites his lip, meeting Brendon's eyes in the half-light. He’s barely awake, Brendon can tell--his eyelashes flutter a certain way in the mornings, sweet and unexpected. Spencer isn't all that awake, but he's aware enough to know that that is Brendon’s dick up against his thigh, judging by the way his eyes are widening.

“Sorry,” Brendon whispers, taking in Spencer’s confused expression, the way he’s holding himself just as still as Brendon is. “Fuck, Spence. Sorry. Accident.” As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s like he can suddenly move again, and he tries to roll away, only to be stopped by Spencer’s arm coming up to hold him in place.

“Uh,” Brendon says.

“Don’t go,” Spencer whispers. His cheeks are flushed, and Brendon can't tell if it's from sleeping or sudden nerves.

“I’m all,” Brendon says helplessly. Spencer’s holding him really tightly, and it’s making everything ache and feel good in equal measure. It’s the hardest thing in the world not to rock up against Spencer’s thigh. Fuck, it’s the hardest thing in the world not to _pee on him_ right now. Brendon doesn't even know how to feel about that.

“It's okay,” Spencer says, pulling him in tighter. He looks a little turned on, a little freaked out. “It’s okay, I mean, I wanted, but I thought you didn’t want—“

“I want,” Brendon manages, because holy shit, apparently they're going to do this now. It's been months and months of stupid, pointless tension and now Brendon thinks he can just barely feel the edge of Spencer’s erection pressing up against the outside of his thigh and oh fuck, oh fuck. Brendon’s been jerking off to the thought of seeing Spencer’s dick for the past six months, and now he’s going to. Now they're going to--

Oh fuck.

“I can tell,” Spencer cracks, giving him a small, breathless smile, and Brendon tries to smile back but seriously, he can’t sit still any more and he can't breathe and his stomach is twisted in delicious, desperate knots.

“I have to go,” Brendon says helplessly, and Spencer’s face falls.

“Oh,” Spencer says, drawing his arm back.

“No, that’s not like—fuck, that’s not an excuse,” Brendon says. “I just really have to. I’m going to like. Fuck, don’t go anywhere, okay? Just stay right here. I have to piss so bad, seriously. Jerk off or something. I’ll be right back.”

“You sure?” Spencer says, starting to relax again at Brendon’s words. He grins. “You can’t just, I don’t know. Wait?” His arm comes up around Brendon’s back, tighter than before, and Brendon is seriously going to burst. He thinks there’s probably something wrong with him that this feels so good. Every cell in his body is tingling with desperation.

“I can't wait any longer,” Brendon mumbles, his voice cracking. “It's stupid, I was waiting before, and now it’s sort of—“ He gasps as Spencer suddenly pulls Brendon up, and on top of him, because _holy shit_ , that is Spencer’s dick, and he’s so hard for Brendon. For _Brendon_. Brendon wants to immortalize this moment and take pictures and record it for posterity but it’s all he can do not to wet himself on top of Spencer because oh fuck, the _pressure_.

Spencer groans, licking his lips and looking at Brendon helplessly. “You’re so hard,” Spencer whispers, pushing his hips up. His mouth is all pink and shiny and Brendon suddenly realizes that they haven’t even kissed yet.

“We should make out a lot after I go to the bathroom,” Brendon tells him, because he's desperate and his stomach aches and he can't stop squirming and his brain-to-mouth filter is pretty fried. “I want to make out with you all the time, I always do. But we should do it afterwards. After I piss.”

“We could do it now,” Spencer says, rolling his hips again.

“Oh fuck,” Brendon says weakly. He’s going to pee _everywhere_. “I---oh fuck.”

“I always want to kiss you,” Spencer says. “I get on these weird obsessive loops in my head where I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Spencer,” Brendon whimpers, because Spencer is pulling him in, tightening his arms around Brendon’s lower back. His mouth is so close and Brendon wants to kiss him so badly and then Spencer rolls his hips up one more time, a slow grind, and Brendon lets out a soft whimper as his body gives in and he starts to go.

Spencer chokes on thin air at the first sensation of wetness, looking at Brendon with wide eyes, and then Brendon is up and off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom, his legs shaking as he pees into the toilet. The relief is so strong it makes his head swim, and he throws a hand out to one side to hold himself up against the wall. His thoughts are soft and white and formless until he's done, until the spike of endorphins suddenly fades and he's left staring down at his dirty toilet bowl by the faint light of his ancient Mario nightlight trickling in through the open bathroom door.

Fuck, he totally just peed on Spencer.

Brendon cannot actually believe how much of a fuck-up he is sometimes.

He shakes himself off and washes his hands, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. His cheeks feel hot to the touch. Brendon thinks desperately positive thoughts about how he can probably convince Spencer to forget this ever happened if he offers to blow him and maybe also do his laundry.

“Brendon,” Spencer says, his voice pitched in a carrying whisper from the bedroom. “Can you, um. Can you bring some tissues or something in here?”

“Yeah,” Brendon says, his heart sinking. Of course Spencer would want to clean himself up. Brendon peed on him. He grabs the spare roll of toilet paper, setting his shoulders as he walks back into the room. He crawls in bed and hands Spencer the toilet paper and—

“Oh,” Brendon says dumbly, because Spencer’s dick is soft and flushed and sticky against his stomach, very obviously spent.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles, sounding miserable. “I couldn’t wait. I didn’t mean to, I was just trying to—“

“It’s okay,” Brendon says. He leans forwards, brushing the tips of his fingers through the streaks of come on Spencer's belly. He’s never touched anyone else’s come before. It’s weirdly hot, warm on the tips of his fingers. He wipes them off on the bedsheet after a moment, feeling awkward.

“I’ll take care of you, though,” Spencer says hurriedly, wiping himself down and rolling over so he’s on his side. “Please. Let me. I want to, I think about this all the time.” Spencer looks a little desperate. “You don’t even know,” Spencer says, his hand hovering somewhere between Brendon’s jawline and the curve of his shoulder.

“I, ah,” Brendon says, looking down at his own dick, which has gone entirely soft and feels a little sore from all of the rubbing and grinding. Sore in a good way, but still. Brendon’s pretty sure he isn’t going to be able to get it up again for a while. “I kind of,” Brendon says. “That whole peeing on you by accident thing was kind of a boner-killer.”

“It’s my fault,” Spencer says immediately. “Don’t feel bad, I totally wasn't listening when you said you had to pee, dude. I was just. Kind of blinded by everything.”

“Me too,” Brendon says, shuffling a little closer.

“I’m really sorry,” Spencer says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Keep apologizing,” Brendon says, looking down. “I think it’s working.”

“Really?” Spencer says.

“No,” Brendon says. “But I made you look.”

“I like looking anyway,” Spencer says, in a softer voice. When he meets Brendon’s eyes again, he looks scared yet determined. “Can I kiss you?” Spencer says, in a small voice.

Brendon takes a deep breath. Brendon can crack a joke with the best of them but until tonight, that’s as far as it’s gone. And now Spencer is asking if this is real, if this is something they’re going to do to get off together in the middle of the night, or if this about something more than sex. If this is something that Brendon is willing to admit to when they're not lying together in the dark.

“I told you,” Brendon says, even though his voice is shaking slightly at the edges. “I want to make out with you all the time.”

“I thought maybe you didn’t mean it,” Spencer says, and suddenly his mouth is closer than before. “People say all sorts of shit in bed.”

“I meant it,” Brendon says, and then Spencer’s tongue is teasing at the seam of Brendon’s lips and Brendon feels himself opening, relaxing into it, letting Spencer take the lead. It’s real kiss, nothing dry or tentative about it. Spencer’s mouth slides against Brendon's, warm and wet, and he's kissing just like Brendon’s seen him kiss girls before, one hand in their hair, focused, overwhelming. Brendon thinks that maybe even when he didn’t understand what it meant, he always wanted to be the one Spencer was kissing like that.

“Wow,” Brendon manages, when they pull apart to breathe.

“I really like you,” Spencer says, swallowing hard. “And I’m really bad at just fucking around and playing games. You have to tell me if I’m too forward.”

“I like forward,” Brendon says, leaning in for another kiss. Spencer makes a soft, frustrated noise. “No, for real,” Spencer says. “I mean, before, when I was dating Jenna and Kristen. I just. I don’t know, they both told all of their friends I was really intense.”

“I like intense,” Brendon says, leaning in and managing to meet Spencer’s mouth this time. He thinks about Spencer’s hand tight around his lower back, pressing him down, and he shivers again. “I’m really into intense. It’s a thing.”

“I’m just saying,” Spencer says. He kisses Brendon’s lower lip. “I don’t want to fuck it up. And if I am fucking it up, you have to tell me so I can stop.”

"Deal," Brendon says. "And, uh. Yeah. Me too. And stuff."

"Okay," Spencer says. "I'll try not to fuck it up."

"Why are you so worried about fucking it up?" Brendon says, kissing momentarily forgotten. "It's not like either of them dumped you over it or anything. What are you so freaked about?"

"I told you," Spencer says. "I just don't want to fuck everything up. Sometimes I say weird shit and sometimes I come on too strong and you have to just tell me so I can stop, okay?"

"I like it when you say weird shit," Brendon says. "That thing about the tomato the other day was fucking hysterical."

"Not like the thing about the tomato," Spencer says, rolling his eyes. "I meant--fuck it, whatever." He rolls over, onto his back, and for a second Brendon thinks maybe Spencer is pissed off that Brendon isn't taking his weird relationship freak-out seriously enough but then Brendon realizes that all Spencer's doing is repositioning himself for better access to Brendon's neck. Brendon groans under his breath, tilting his head back so Spencer can graze his teeth just below Brendon's ear.

"Do it," Brendon says, without thinking. He feels Spencer suck in a breath, and then he bites, sharp teeth and a strong grip and Brendon feels his dick pulse against Spencer's thigh at the sudden shock of pain. The sensation rides the edge of too-much for a long, long second.

"Shit," Spencer says, pulling away after he realizes that Brendon hasn't moved an inch, that he's holding himself absolutely still.

"Wait, no," Brendon says, curling his fingers into Spencer's side when Spencer tries to shuffle out from underneath him. Spencer's cheeks are flushed in the half-light, hot to the touch. "No," Brendon says again. "I was--didn't you want me to stay still?"

Spencer blinks up at him. "Oh," Spencer says.

"I thought that's what you wanted," Brendon says. "I wasn't trying to say no."

Spencer looks away from Brendon, over Brendon's shoulder. "I hurt you," he says, after a moment.

"I liked it," Brendon says. "Sometimes I like stuff like that." His stomach twists, curling up, but it's a less terrifying admission than a lot of other things Brendon could admit to right now. Pain releases endorphins. They've been learning about it in health class. Brendon's pretty sure that one is almost normal.

Spencer gives Brendon a considering look. "Yeah?" Spencer says, looking hesitant.

"Do it again," Brendon says, tilting his neck. "Do it harder this time."

"Are you sure?" Spencer says.

"And jerk me off," Brendon says, and usually when he's getting himself off thinking about Spencer he's not the one giving the orders but maybe Spencer needs a little encouragement. Brendon doesn't get why Spencer's being all weird about this.

"Fuck," Spencer says quietly, and then he's sinking his teeth into Brendon's neck again, nipping rough and quick, pushing his teeth in hard enough to make Brendon cry out involuntarily. He slides his hand down between their bodies and wraps three fingers around the head of Brendon's dick, over his underwear. Brendon jerks down against his hand, and Spencer sinks his teeth in harder before pulling back and choosing a new spot.

"Do you want me to move?" Brendon gasps out, trying to breathe through the sensation of Spencer's mouth biting at the curve of his collarbone. "Or do you want me to stay still?"

"Stay _still_ ," Spencer growls. His voice is low and intimate, close to Brendon's ear, and hearing Spencer say that out loud does something vicious to his insides. His dick pulses again, trapped against Spencer's hand and Brendon's thigh.

"Okay," Brendon whispers. "See that was kind of my point, why were you being all weird about it?"

"I don't know," Spencer says. "Fuck, Brendon. I don't know. Everything is weird. This is weird. Can you stay still for me while I jerk you off?"

"Yeah," Brendon says. "Bite me more, come on. I like the way it feels."

"Fuck," Spencer says, and rubs his thumb over the head of Brendon's leaking dick.

"You're not doing this fast enough, hurry up," Brendon says, and then all of a sudden Spencer's biting him really fucking hard, teeth sinking in like everything that came before was just a warm up for the main event. Brendon yelps, his hips jerking uncontrollably into Spencer's fist and then he's coming hot and desperate into Spencer's hand. Tonight is apparently not the night he's going to impress Spencer with his amazing skills in the bedroom.

"Okay, next time maybe not that fast," Brendon mumbles. Spencer's mouth is soft against his neck, soothing away the ache. Brendon twists his neck from side to side. It feels like there's at least two spots that are going to bruise. The thought makes him feel warm and desperate deep down in his belly.

"Next time?" Spencer says quietly. "You're still cool with--"

"Yeah," Brendon says, nudging at Spencer's cheek with his nose until Spencer raises his head and slides his lips against Brendon's. Brendon kisses him for a moment, stomach swooping. "Next time."


End file.
